


Good Ol' Cup of Joe

by CloverTheGrand



Series: Doubt Thou the Stars are Fire [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Banter, Coffee, Coffee Addict Gabriel (Good Omens), M/M, Morning Routines, Sort of? - Freeform, The Office - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27552274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloverTheGrand/pseuds/CloverTheGrand
Summary: Every Monday at 11 am sharp, Gabriel came to Crowley’s flat for a pint of coffee.
Relationships: Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: Doubt Thou the Stars are Fire [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909276
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Good Ol' Cup of Joe

“Here again?” Crowley inquired.

Gabriel shrugged. “Free coffee.”

Every Monday at 11 am sharp, Gabriel came to Crowley’s flat for a pint of coffee. Then, 15 minutes later, he would thank him for the company and then go back to Heaven, and Crowley would go mist his plants. Despite Gabriel's unfamiliarity and hesitance to eat anything, in fear of tarnishing “the temple of his body”, he has fostered a caffeine addiction and was beginning to learn how to use Crowley’s expensive coffee machine. 

Crowley gazed down at Gabriel’s cup of coffee, which was practically a coffee-flavoured milkshake. Gabriel hadn’t figured out how to use the steam wand yet, either, so the foam on top was bumpy and irregular in size. 

“You can get those specially made for you at those artisan coffee places,” Crowley pointed out, remembering that Gabriel thoroughly enjoyed having his material objects made for him. 

Gabriel shook his head. “Nuh-uh. Don’t have anything to pay them with.”

Crowley tilted his head.  "You're an Archangel. You can miracle cash at the tip of your fingers."

"Not frivolously, obviously. That would contribute to inflation!" Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Adding extra bills to the system would harm the economy? I thought you’d know what that is."

Crowly spluttered. "I do, I-… ah. The bills do not have to be permanent. Have the cash disappear after you're finished. No?"

"Wouldn't that be like giving away things for free? That's no way to run a business."

"Doesn't have to be immediately, either. Wait till the cash flows in some rich snob’s pocket.  _ Then _ have it dissipate.” Crowley grinned when he saw Gabriel’s violet pupils gaze upwards, his mouth stretched straight in concentration. “Don’t you think?"

“It  _ is _ practically charity for anyone who received it beforehand…”

That’s it. “And?”

“... But I’m not convinced as to how different it would be if I make them myself.”

“The key word is  _ artisan _ , Gabriel. How do you like your cup of joe?”

Gabriel looked down at his mug. The sad, limpy foam melted into the muddy coffee. 

“They make such smooth, velvety foam that float like clouds. They’re professionals specially trained for this, with years” well, months “of training under their belt.”

Gabriel’s full attention was on Crowley now. “Carry on.”

“They serve coffees in pretty clean glass mugs, too. And they have a lot of other toppings, like whipped cream and even ice cream. Then they coat it with sugary sauces.”

“What type of sauces?”

“Let’s see… vanilla, dulce de lèche… oh-! And they decorate their coffees with treats. Lots and  _ lots _ of treats.” All of Gabriel’s attention was on him now. “Little colourful candies you can chew as you sip. Dustings of powders that accentuates the topping just right. Gabriel was looking at Crowley curiously with wide eyes. “And those are just the ones that come to mind.”

Crowley hummed, then he grinned. 

“They’d also have sweet glaze, cinnamon sugar, chocolate, white chocolate, fudge, M&M’s, caramel dip, mint chip, chocolate chip, marshmallow, nuts, toffee nuts, coconuts, peanut butter drizzle, Oreos, sprinkles, cotton candy bits, and powdered sugar. Together they make works of art  _ so _ intricate you’d want to put it on a podium.”

“Gee, that’s a lot of things that’s not coffee.”

“A sugar rush does make a good caffeine substitute.” He winked.

“Do they taste good?”

Crowley shrugged, even though he knew the answers to that question. “Been a long time. Can’t remember with this old noggin these days.”

The next week, Gabriel did not appear at his usual hour. 

Crowley could imagine what Gabriel was doing in his 15 minute break. Crowley could imagine Gabriel having organised a whole schedule to organise which places to go in such a tight timeframe. Or perhaps because of all the places available, Gabriel would designate a place to drink coffee for each week, then consider what place to make his regular visit. Probably had a whole ridiculous list of cafés that he planned to go to, checking them off one by one. 

Of course, then Gabriel won’t have a reason to visit him at this time anymore. The clock ticked an obnoxious 11:08. Crowley sighed and grabbed his plant mister. 

The front door opened. Crowley blinked. 

Gabriel’s coffee was ridiculous. Rather than a takeaway coffee cup, Gabriel was holding a tall custom glass, the type you’d get at a milkshake bar. Crowley could only imagine the looks of exasperation as the barista chased after Gabriel, pleading that it wasn’t for takeaway, only to find that Gabriel had disappeared. What more, 5 ice cream scoops stacked on top of each other like the leaning tower of Pisa. It was a miracle (well it probably was) as to why it hadn’t collapsed. It had every topping Crowley described, with at least ten others he could not recognise, with a single red cherry on top to finish the look. Crowley was sure that, if given to a human, finishing that drink would guarantee them diabetes. 

“How does it taste?” Crowley asked. Gabriel swallowed a generous gulp of the coffee, then perused. There was a thick cream moustache on Gabriel’s lip that he licked off. 

Crowley got his answer as Gabriel paced to the coffee machine and added a few shots of espresso to the concoction. 


End file.
